


Valentine's Day, White Day, Black Day

by supersinger472



Category: One Punch Man
Genre: Blowjobs, Fluff, M/M, OPMSV, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-15
Updated: 2016-02-15
Packaged: 2018-05-20 18:30:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6020527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/supersinger472/pseuds/supersinger472
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for papaya-cupcake on tumblr for the One Punch Man Secret Valentine who requested something cute and sexy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Valentine's Day, White Day, Black Day

Steam rises from Genos' core as he opens the door to the apartment he shares with Saitama to grab the newspaper, still delivered every morning to the only inhabitants of the area. He takes a moment to look at the quiet street, everything covered in a thin layer of snow, just enough to make the edges of everything fuzzy and pale. The large cardboard box stands out with its sharpness, the only thing still free of snow. Genos picks it up and sees it's addressed to him; he remembers to grab the newspaper and carries both inside.

Saitama looks up from his light novel as Genos struggles to open the door while holding the bulky box, "since when do you order things?"

"It was sent from the Hero Association, of course it would be simpler for them to put it all in one package for the both of us." Genos sets the heavy cardboard box on their shared table and hands Saitama the day's newspaper.

"What's in it?" Saitama is looking around at all sides of the box, which takes up almost the entire table.

"Valentine's Day gifts. Girls send chocolates to the boys they like."

"I know what Valentine's Day is! I just didn't know it was today." He slumps down and grabs the newspaper, hiding a sulk as he opens up to the page of coupons. "There's a sale at the market tomorrow in celebration."

"Saitama-sensei," Genos sets the box on the floor, leaving it closed for the moment. "Did you get any chocolates this year?"

"Why would I get any chocolates? It's not like I have an army of fans sending me them like you do."

Oh. There it is. Genos has to fight the urge to make a sound of understanding. Saitama is upset that he's unpopular and alone on Valentine's Day. The Demon Cyborg leans open and opens the box, holding out a square box wrapped with a curly white ribbon. "Take it, Saitama-sensei."

"What? Is it really okay to take chocolates meant for you?"

"Yes, something so overloaded with sugar and fat wouldn't be an effecient source of fuel for my systems anyway. In essentiality my body derives the most fuel in the opposite manner of humans: instead of running off sugars it converts fiber into biofuel. This way I can eat a much wider range of things and still derive the same amount of power from it. Of course, my human brain still requires some manner of glucose to function but eating that many chocolates would be too much by far, the optimum amount of sugars my brain requires is closer to-"

"Genos." Saitama holds his hand up in front of his face, cutting him off. "Remember to keep it to twenty words or less."

"Of course, Saitama-sensei!"

"Still, I suppose even you can't eat all this without getting a little sick."

Genos watches as his teacher takes another heart-shaped container out and sets it on the table. Genos' name is written in glittery pink ink that Genos instinctively analyzes and compares to existing records to make sure it isn't a trap. The only hit that comes up is the manufacturer of the pen that wrote it. “Saitama-sensei, have you ever gotten Valentine’s Day chocolates before?”

“What? Where did that come from?” Saitama spreads the newspaper out on the table and opens the box of chocolates, picking out a round one with a drizzle of pink chocolate over the top with long fingers and taking a bite out of it, the raspberry jam inside dripping onto his lips. He licks up the sticky goop and grimaces, putting it back, muttering quietly, “I don’t like raspberry.”

Genos doesn’t have an entirely logical reason why the question popped into his mind, demanding to be voiced, so he lies in the most believable way he can. “I thought it might be part of the secret to your strength.”

“Oh, well,” Saitama’s eyes flick between Genos, sitting patiently with his legs folded beneath him, and the coupon page. “I guess when I was in school and they made everyone give them out for Valentine’s Day. But I’ve never gotten boyfriend chocolate or anything like that.” There’s a particular twist to Saitama’s lips when he says that, the one he gets when he’s not entirely satisfied but can’t work up the energy to care. It’s the same expression he gets when he misses a sale or someone in the street spews hate at him.

Genos doesn’t say anything more, instead he pulls out his laptop and starts researching ways to make a perfect Valentine’s Day for someone.

\---

“Genos! I’m back from the market!” Saitama shouts, juggling the grocery bags full of household cleaners Genos asked him go out and get. He kicks off his house slippers and immediately steps on something soft strewn across the floor. The hallway is strangely dim and he scrambles to find the light switch, turning it all the way up and revealing a thick layer of rose petals carpeting the floor, completely hiding the hallway tile.

Growing more confused by the second Saitama walks into the main room of the apartment, “Genos?” He says, more quietly in case some sort of flower-themed villain has invaded the apartment and smashed Genos into the floor, but the sight of Genos sitting cross-legged on the futon in a new tank-top and jeans, seemingly unharmed, makes him stop short. “I’m back,” he says, at a loss for what to say.

“I know, Saitama-sensei. I heard you come in.”

“Okay? So what’s all this? Were we attacked or something?”

Genos looks down at his hands, rubbing the rubber joints between his fingers, “it’s a ‘romantic night in on a budget.’ I wanted to show you I value all the things you do, Saitama-sensei. I cherish the time we spend together.”

“Yeah but we’re not dating or anything.” The heavy plastic bags are starting to cut off circulation in Saitama’s hands so he walks to the kitchen and sets them on the counter. 

He flushes high on his cheeks and clutches the fabric of his shirt, his core glowing through the thin tank-top. “I know that, but you said you’ve never had a real Valentine’s Day celebration. And neither have I.”

“Oh. Okay.” Saitama’s at a loss for what to do so he sits cross-legged across from Genos on the futon, staring at the cyborg he’d taken in, reluctantly. When they first met Saitama had only agreed to let him stay because he’d been so annoying but almost immediately Genos became an indispensable part of the house; beyond the housework he does Saitama enjoys the company Genos provides, he’s someone to talk to, someone who supports him. Genos may be brash and reckless with his own body but he’s protective of Saitama, defending him in public and online, picking up the slack wherever Saitama needs him to, even if it’s just to help him get twice as many “limit one per household items.”

“So,” Saitama says after a long silence. “What did the internet tell you a romantic night in involves?”

Genos leans closer and Saitama has to fight the instinctive urge to lean back in case he starts shouting. But when he does speak his voice is soft and a little unsure, “you stay inside and talk, and then you do this:” Genos braces one hand on the floor and rests the other on Saitama’s stomach just above the waistband of his sweatpants, and Saitama has just enough time to swallow and feel the hot metal of his hand through his sweater before a pair of all-too-human lips are pressed against his own. There’s nothing robotic about Genos’ mouth, aside from the fact that it’s a little warm, but his lips are soft and wet and Saitama finds his own lips opening under the gentle touches of Genos’ tongue.

With Genos’ hand on Saitama’s stomach pushing him down onto the futon he starts leaning backwards without noticing until as he lifts a hand off the ground to touch his cheek his other hand slips out from beneath him and he lands on the floor with a thud, his head bumping against the floor. He and Genos stare at each other for a moment, Genos’ eyes wide with shock at the way he suddenly pulled away, the fact that Genos spent all afternoon planning this night and didn’t account for the slipperiness of the roses seems so out of character that Saitama starts to smile and then laugh, pulling Genos down just as the cyborg gets the joke and starts to giggle as well and kissing him, pushing his tongue into Genos’ smiling mouth. Their arms tangle together and Genos gets roses in his hair and they can’t stop laughing until Saitama is out of breath and the kisses slow down, become soft and hesitant again, and Genos places his hand on Saitama’s stomach just like before.

“You keep doing that,” Saitama says, staring up at him.

“There’s something I would like to do, Saitama-sensei, but I don’t want you to be upset,” Genos pulls away and sits back on his knees, straightening out his tank-top. “This body is not equipped with genitals like yours is, but my mouth is quite human to accommodate proper speech, as you know already. So I was wondering if I could, that is, would you let me, orally stimulate-”

“Just say you want to suck me off next time. I mean,” Saitama looks down as he undoes the tie on his sweatpants and slides them off his narrow hips along with his boxers. Once they’re out of the way he takes Genos’ hand and pulls it towards his still soft cock. “Be careful, yeah? And don’t do anything like take notes on how I react or anything, got it?”

“Of course, Saitama-sensei!” Saitama has to fight the embarrassment that rises up as Genos’ eyes follow the thick trail of black hair from his navel to his cock. He adjusts his grip so his joints down catch on Saitama’s skin and kisses the tip, just making out with the head the way they were before, only with more tongue than before. Slowly Genos grows more confident with his movements, licking his lips and covering his teeth with them before sucking his shaft into his mouth, moaning around him as he takes him deep into his throat.

Above him Saitama squirms and shifts in his seat, letting out a surprised gasp every time Genos figures out something new to do with his tongue, bucking his cock up deeper into his mouth helplessly. He moves his hands from the futon to Genos’ hair when Saitama hears a tearing sound and looks down to see his fingers tearing holes in it and then quickly drops them back down when he imagines doing the same to Genos. “Genos, ‘m gonna come, fuck, fuck!” He groans as Genos sucks him long and hard, body trembling as he shoots hot seed down Genos’ throat.

Genos pulls away when he’s finished, the electronics in his eyes glitched and shaking, his mouth slowly opens to show the pearly liquid smeared on his tongue and lips.

“You’re a mess, are you okay?” Saitama can’t help but let his brow furrow in concern that he might have hurt him somehow.

Genos nods quickly and swallows, licking his sticky lips, “I’m fine, S-s-s-aita-ma-senseei, I mean it!” His movements are all shaky, something inside him clearly overloaded.

“Okay, just sit there a moment.” Still plainly concerned Saitama stands and pulls his sweatpants back on, going into the kitchen and getting a towel and a glass of water, gently wiping down Genos’ flushed face, eventually just cupping his cheek and staring into his eyes as they go dark for a moment and then turn back on, going back to normal.

Saitama shivers as outside hail starts to patter down on the roof and the cold wind whips through the building, not removing his hand from his cheek, “did you plan anything else for tonight?”

Genos goes over the list of events he had planned for the night in his head, not even half complete, and then looks at Saitama. The cyborg shakes his head and goes to the closet to pull out a few more comforters, sitting next to Saitama and wrapping the blankets around the both of the, turning up the temperature of his core to warm their little nest. “This is all, Saitama-sensei,” he says, resting his fluffy head on Saitama’s shoulder.

He smiles down at Genos and reaches out to grab the remote, on the television an old black and white film is playing, love in some tropical location far from where they are.


End file.
